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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26565715">tell me again about how it hurts (being awfully loud for an introvert)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltears/pseuds/alltears'>alltears</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>savior complex [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Developing Friendships, Dorian Pavus Has Issues, Dorian Pavus is a Good Friend, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Last Resort of Good Men, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Hinterlands (Dragon Age), Hugs, Inquisitor &amp; Dorian Pavus Friendship, Insecurity, Love, Natasha Trevelyan, Platonic Relationships, Redcliffe (Dragon Age), wlw/mlm solidarity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:14:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,996</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26565715</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltears/pseuds/alltears</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian and Inquisitor Trevelyan have quite a lot in common, really.</p><p>Set directly after "Last Resort of Good Men".</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dorian Pavus &amp; Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Josephine Montilyet (background), Josephine Montilyet/Female Trevelyan (background)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>savior complex [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>tell me again about how it hurts (being awfully loud for an introvert)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey!!! where the hell are all my dorian &amp; female inquisitor fics?? can i get some good gay/lesbian solidarity or do i have to do it myself? (i did it myself.)</p><p>gonna put a tw here just in case: at the very beginning, dorian has a panic attack, but it isn't graphic or named. if you do want to skip it, you can pick up again at "Surprisingly,". stay safe! you are loved!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Dorian, what do you want to do?” The Inquisitor’s voice was soft and close, but it did nothing to ease the tension in Dorian’s stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I don’t know. I can’t…” Dorian placed his hands on the table in front of him, desperate to look away from the pleading eyes of his father. Thoughts weren’t forming in his brain, so he resorted to shaking his head and breathing loudly to prove to himself that he was still alive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s step outside,” Trevelyan decided, putting on what himself and Varric lovingly named her ‘Templar’ voice after hearing how she spoke kindly, like herself, to the mages, and aggressive and firm towards the Order. She raised her volume, surely in order to address Halward more than Dorian. He barely registered the gentle hand that came to his shoulder and guided him out of the stuffy and lonely tavern. Trevelyan sat on the nature-covered steps just outside the building. Even in his state, Dorian hesitated resting on a spot that would certainly dirty his robes, but The Inquisitor was gazing up at him, eyes large and full of worry, so he joined her on the mossy stone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, Dorian was not bombarded with personal questions the moment his ass brushed dirt. No, Trevelyan had clearly stifled her own intense (and often problematic - seriously, she could be as bad as Cole) curiosity, resting her hands on her lap and looking at the town around them while he breathed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dorian was suddenly hit by a wave of insecurity - which, hooray, that means he’s feeling himself again! But surely, he’d gone mad! Breaking down in front of his father always made him feel weak, though it was hardly news. Doing so in front of The Inquisitor, however? </span>
  <em>
    <span>The </span>
  </em>
  <span>Herald of Andraste? Rumors of his insanity would spread all throughout Fereldan and Orlais once the rest of The Inquisition caught wind of his - affliction. Of course, now that he handed the nay-sayers a reason for his exile from The Inquisition, he’d be tossed back to Tevinter like week-old bread.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You want me gone, yes, Lady Inquisitor?” Dorian sighed. He straightened himself to prepare for the confirming blow and looked again into Trevelyan’s eyes, and - Oh. She was facing him, her lips tightened into a watery frown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maker, why would I want that?” She asked. “I told you, Fereldan doesn’t care if you only like men. They let </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>run The Inquisition, after all.” Dorian was tempted to ask his dozen follow-up questions, but he filed the thoughts away for another time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not that. I… should not have lost myself in there. I do apologize, Inquisitor. Sincerely,” he finished. The Inquisitor’s orange eyebrows furrowed inwards and she cocked her head much like a mabari hound might. Another time, Dorian might have laughed in a fond sort of way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean…” Her eyes light up with realization. “Dorian, you don’t ever need to apologize for that! You did nothing wrong. You were confronted, unexpectedly, with your worst memories and the person responsible for them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course </span>
  </em>
  <span>you were overwhelmed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Yes?” Trevelyan smiled, warm and private as though they were sharing a secret.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Well, that’s… nice, then,” he met her smile with one of his own, and watched with amusement as hers grew. She scooted closer, so that their knees were touching, and bumped his shoulder with her own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What shall we do now, then?” Trevelyan implored. “We could go back in, if you’re inclined. Whatever you want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dorian fell quiet, thinking. In a kind world, he would reconcile with his father, and feel his love and pride for the first time in decades. In a perfect world, they would have been a normal family that cared for each other. But, there is a hole in the sky that shits demons and a corrupt god claiming the Maker has abandoned His people, so he has neither kindness nor perfection.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think so. Whatever relationship my father and I could have shared is no longer possible, I’m afraid,” The Inquisitor nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to head back to Skyhold, then?” Dorian laughed lightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should let Warden Blackwall and Sera attempt to skip stones or shop a little while longer - Since we dragged them out here for nothing, after all,” It was a poor excuse used in order to enjoy Trevelyan’s quiet company in Redcliffe a little longer, but if she saw through his veiled excuse, she made no indication.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Agreed. It is a lovely day, after all,” Trevelyan sighed and rested her head on Dorian’s shoulder. He couldn’t recall a time anyone had done this to him; What did it mean? Trust? Appreciation?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dorian found he rather liked it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inquisitor Trevelyan ended up sending Sera and Blackwall ahead of them once they began their trek back to Skyhold, leaving the pair to walk the Hinterlands on their own. This originally frightened Dorian to his core, but quickly found that this new sort of intimacy consisted largely of The Inquisitor picking every herb in sight and long bouts of a comfortable quiet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t recall us ever spending this much time alone,” Dorian remarked at hour 5 of their journey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm? Oh, not all at once, I suppose. I do spend quite a lot of time with you in your nook.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Scandalous, My Lady!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re hysterical,” Trevelyan deadpanned, dissolving into an endearing giggle after just a few moments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re almost to the Outskirts Camp. Should we rest there for the night?” Dorian observed the falling sun and increase of bugs attempting to bite him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damned South.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, my feet are close to falling right off,” she paused. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Er…” Dorian paused. “Sorry?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All that,” she raised her voice into a shrill thing and put on a sloppy Orlesian accent. “‘Andraste’s Herald, Our Lady Inquisitor Trevelyan’ bullshit. I mean, I get it when it comes from strangers and scouts, but… You mean much more to me. You’re my friend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Dorian stopped in his tracks, and Trevelyan stopped a few paces later. She turned to face him and raised an eyebrow. “What shall I call you then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Natasha. Please,” even through the evening light, Dorian could make out her crooked smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Natasha it is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Dorian.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” they set off again. “Since this whole day has been a remarkable time for revealing secrets, care to tell me who at Skyhold you’re looking after?” Natasha rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maker, fine. Well, Scout Harding is a lovely thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“True enough, from what I know of her. The height disparity doesn’t worry you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ha! No, no, I find those details… inconsequential,” the crunch of twigs under their boots filled her silence. “Though, I would worry if Varric ever took a liking to The Iron Bull. No one would make it out of there alive,” she laughed. Dorian shook his head fondly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been spending too much time with Sera, it seems.” Natasha hummed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There is… Well, what do you think of Josephine?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our Ambassador? No wonder she’s been so distracted lately! Bravo, Inquisitor. Sorry - Natasha.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wind coming from the lake was strong and cool, but Dorian relished in it. It was a welcome sort of shock to his system after the previous day had wrecked through him. He woke up in the Outskirts Camp sore and rather miserable, with the extreme need to get away - How could one think with requisition officers and scouts already shouting orders and discoveries at the asscrack of dawn?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dorian had quietly excused himself to collect his thoughts elsewhere. He walked for only about ten minutes before coming across the empty lake. It reminded him of the water in the Storm Coast, with its smooth rocks lining the lake and that crisp air - it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>nearly </span>
  </em>
  <span>as cold, and the sun was out and shining down on him, so he found he rather enjoyed the spot. He sat at the water’s edge, listening to the slight lapping of the waves from the wind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you worried your robes will get wet?” Dorian jumped at the voice behind him and whipped around, only to be met with the smiling Inquisitor standing on a large rock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, now I am! Curse you, putting such thoughts in my head,” Dorian stood and retreated from the water, checking the bottom of his robes for signs of water. Trevelyan snorted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re clean, Sparkler. Come,” She extended a hand down to him. He took it, and they worked to heave Dorian onto the rock where she stood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lucky</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he retorted. Trevelyan scrunched up her nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are Varric’s names for me so rude? Handy, lucky… It’s sort of cruel, yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you seriously suggesting ‘Sparkler’ is any better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. I like it,” Trevelyan smirked. “Better than ‘Chuckles’. Poor little Solas. And I read about the Champion in his book - he calls her ‘Waffles’. Perhaps we shouldn’t complain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ha! Perhaps not,” Dorian sighed out his morning troubles. It was truly comforting, standing close enough to feel the heat from Trevelyan’s body, gazing out at the sun rising over the lake with her. She’d called him her friend, yesterday evening. It seemed she meant it. When was the last time Dorian had a true friend? Felix, of course, but he was gone, now. Would Trevelyan survive the closing of the Breach? The fighting of Corypheus? Or would she, too, be taken by fate’s welcoming arms? Felix and The Inquisitor were alike, in many ways; both were too sweet, found the good in most everyone, and hoped for a better future. That hope proved dangerous. “I didn’t say, yesterday, but… I consider you a friend, too, Natasha.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s lovely,” Dorian was still gazing over the water, but he knew she was smiling. “I’m not sure I have many friends. Josie, I hope. Sera and Varric, maybe. It’s hard to know who actually enjoys my company, and who is sucking up to Andraste’s Herald.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sounds lonely,” Dorian knew it to be true.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. It’s hard, because I rather like everyone at Skyhold. Even Vivienne and her damned Circle,” she laughed softly, thought it sounded sadder than she probably intended.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rest assured, Natasha, there are very few inhabitants of Skyhold whose company I don’t despise, and you are one of them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“High praise,” The Inquisitor joked. She turned then, to face Dorian, so he did the same. Trevelyan was biting her lip and looking down at the center of his chest. “I think…” She met his eyes suddenly. “I think you are my dearest friend, Dorian. Perhaps the dearest I’ve ever known. I love you, very much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dorian felt his brain cease function. This incredible woman, who defends apostates even though she herself is no mage, who listens to him read from books on Tevinter though he knows she doesn’t truly care, who closes rifts in the sky with nothing but her blades and her hand - She </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves </span>
  </em>
  <span>him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When was the last time someone said that to him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His mother, all those years ago?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I…” Dorian didn’t know what to say. His throat closed embarrassingly and he focused on pushing the tears coming to his eyes back into his skull. “I also love you, Natasha,” he croaked out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trevelyan smiled, wide and excited. She leaned up on her toes to wrap her arms around Dorian’s neck in a tight embrace. It had been years since Dorian felt a hug. Drifting from Circle to Circle and wandering around the Imperium left him as alone as The Inquisitor likely felt, hidden away by her own noble family for not wanting part of their games, and… Oh. They really were alike.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dorian pulled her closer to him, his arms squeezing around her waist with ferocity. Of course she understands him, better than anyone alive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My dearest friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dorian thought to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes were closed, and his staff was back at camp, but Dorian felt safer than he had in years.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading!! sound off in the comments about how i fucked up dorian's characterization uwu</p><p>hmu on twitter @trobed_<br/>hmu on tumblr @alltears</p></blockquote></div></div>
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